


h e a t h e r

by leafiest_groves



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caleo break up, Coming back to life, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, I Made Myself Cry, Jason Grace Needs a Hug, Jealousy, M/M, Oh My God, REALLY BADLY, Silena Beauregard is a good friend, Song: Heather (Conan Gray), barely any fluff though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafiest_groves/pseuds/leafiest_groves
Summary: Jason is dead. He doesn't know what to do with his feelings now that he's dead. This is the story of what he ends up doing.
Relationships: Jason Grace/Leo Valdez, Leo Valdez/Calypso (past), Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	h e a t h e r

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScytheMarieAntoinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScytheMarieAntoinette/gifts).



_I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater_

_You said it looked better on me than it did you_

_Only if you knew how much I liked you_

_But I watch your eyes as she walks by_

Jason’s sketchbook has been empty for days. One day, his hands begin their work all on their own. He doesn’t know what it is, bitterness or something else that’s pushed him to relive that memory, but when the rough outline of the sweater Leo loaned him looks back at him from the page, he is sure that it’s jealousy. 

Against all odds, there’s a drawing of Calypso in here. It’s at the very back, and she isn’t alone in that drawing. She’s next to Leo.

Jason drew that to capture Leo’s smile, but it felt wrong not to draw the entire scene. If he’d only drawn Leo, maybe it would be easier to delude himself into believing that _he_ had been the one to make Leo smile like that. 

_What a sight for sore eyes_

_Brighter than the blue sky_

_She's got you mesmerised while I die_

Elysium is quiet. Of course it is. Jason found what might very well be the quietest corner of Elysium to hide in while wallowing in his own misery.

It’s difficult to look into the mortal world. The land of the living is a painful place for Jason. Despite that, he can’t seem to hold himself back from checking in on Leo. 

When Jason heads back in town to pick something up, it’s usually pencils. He’d always liked colored pencils. Today he peruses the display of pencils once again, on the hunt for the right shades for Leo’s hair. He’s only ever drawn that familiar mess of bouncy curls in monochrome, afraid of what he’d feel if the drawing was more lifelike.

Calypso seems happy. 

Jason isn’t.

_Why would you ever kiss me?_

_I'm not even half as pretty_

_You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester_

_But you like her better_

_Wish I were Heather_

Silena pops in to check on him. It’s nice in a roundabout way. She’s fussy and sisterly and it’s comforting, even if Jason’s heart aches for Thalia. Perhaps it’s that sisterly warmth that pushes Jason to confess. 

Silena isn’t surprised.

Jason isn’t sure if he wants to cry or laugh when his spiel is done. All those days he spent with Leo before he left seem to mean _nothing_ now. He remembers coming to Elysium expecting to see Leo, and then being left not knowing how to feel when he wasn’t there.

It wasn’t as if Jason would prefer it if Leo were dead. Quite the opposite really, he was grateful that Leo had been given more time. It just seemed so...unfair. Calypso, in Jason's eyes at least, didn’t deserve Leo.

Jason had lived for Leo, he’d cried for Leo, he’d _died_ for Leo. 

His voice breaks when he tells Silena that Leo had put his sweater around Calypso’s shoulders. 

_It’s just so unfair Silena,_ he’d muttered. She gets it.

_It’s just polyester,_ she offers by way of comfort. Unlike everything else she’s said today, it just seems to make things seem a little worse.

  
  
  


_Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand_

_Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder_

_But how could I hate her, she's such an angel_

_But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she walks by_

Maybe it would’ve been better if Calypso had died too. Murdering titanesses isn’t that far off from Jason’s day job of killing monsters. Jason wonders what that would have been like. 

He wonders how it would have felt to be next to someone who loved Leo too. 

She couldn’t ever have loved him the same way, and Jason is _sure_ he loved Leo more. 

It’s with a weary sigh and a glance at his sketchbook that he admits it to himself. Calypso didn’t do anything wrong. His death wasn’t her fault, and neither was the fact that Jason was too afraid to confess. Well, maybe she had something to do with that last bit.

Leo’s talking about something to her, quiet over the sound of the campfire and the voices of other campers in the background. Jason thinks he hears an ‘I love you’. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t sure.

He throws the newest pages in his sketchbook into a fire. Aptly enough, his first attempt at watercolours ends up being a smudgy mess blotted with tears.

_What a sight for sore eyes_

_Brighter than the blue sky_

_She's got you mesmerised while I die_

On his bad days Jason convinces himself that Calypso is better for Leo than he ever was. 

She’s warm and full of life, just like Leo himself. She isn’t tiring to be around, she’s as refreshing as a warm breeze in autumn.

She’s bright, so bright it’s blinding. Her magic is so very bright and beautiful, opposite to Jason’s. Jason sees the shine in her sweet brown eyes and is sure that they’re so much brighter and comforting than the sharpness his eyes hold.

He’s never seen the way his eyes soften around Leo, maybe he never will.

_Why would you ever kiss me?_

_I'm not even half, as pretty_

_You gave her your sweater_

_It's just polyester, but you like her better_

Jason’s eyes stay dry by some miracle. He manages to stop by Silena’s house on his way to get more pencils. Everything he’s used so far has been sharpened down to nubs. 

She’s worried, but then again, Silena is a serial worrier. She’s not as upbeat as Piper, but she’s comforting in a way that reminds Jason of her. 

Jason sits in front of their piano while Beckendorf carries on a conversation with Silena. Jason can just barely hear that they’re making tea together, and instinctively thinks of the meals Leo’s shared with him. It’s depressing, so he stops.

Silena throws a smile in Beckendorf’s direction before walking into the parlor with two mugs of tea. Jason thanks her quietly, and lowers his eyes when Silena gestures at him to talk.

Jason is miserable. 

He pours his heart out, and it’s really so easy to tell Silena about love troubles, so he gets a little carried away with today’s vent. Silena listens all the same.

He pours out his jealousy, his anxieties, all the fears and aches of being dead knowing you’re gone. Knowing you’re that much easier to forget. Silena has had time and friends, but Jason’s tragedy is fresh, and for the time being, it’s unbearably painful.

Once the mugs are empty and the light is dim with evening shadows, Silena plays a little tune on the keys, something about nightingales and singing, and Jason thinks he might feel a little better.

_I wish I were Heather_

_Wish I were Heather_

_Wish I were Heather_

Leo and Calypso have broken up.

Jason doesn’t know how to feel.

He’s afraid to feel.

Lying awake at night, he stares at the ceiling in silence. Then it hits him.

He still wishes he were Calypso. Even though she isn’t with Leo anymore, it doesn’t matter. She had her moment. She had a chance. Jason would have died for that same chance. Maybe it was _why_ he was dead to begin with.

There’s a page in his sketchbook, just a page or two ahead of the drawing he’d done of Leo laughing next to Calypso, with her wide grin and Leo’s wild curls flying. The entire thing is covered in bad calligraphy. Every sentence reads ‘I wish I were Calypso.’ 

He wants to yell into his pillow how unfair it is. He’s already done that so many dozens of times since he’s died. He wants to try it again. 

He wants to tell Calypso that she doesn’t know what she’s losing, what she’s missing. That she’s made a horrible mistake.

He wants to tell Calypso that it was about time she learned to appreciate herself, that it wasn’t fair of her to throw away what Jason had longed for - just like that. Like- like it didn’t matter. 

He wants to be happy, but he just can’t do it. As much as a small part of him is glad, the louder and more obvious conclusion is that he feels terrible.

How could he?

Perhaps he was living vicariously through Calypso.

Maybe he was just happy to see someone making Leo happy.

There’s the smallest chance he was just waiting to see if it would last.

It doesn’t make any sense to him. He feels all jumbled up and terrified. He hates feeling like this, like he can’t understand the rest of his feelings. It’s like a noose made out of his own soul, he can’t breathe even though his lungs are full. It’s because his heart is even fuller.

_Why would you ever kiss me?_

_I'm not even half as pretty_

_You gave her your sweater_

_It's just polyester, but you like her better_

It’s while he’s drying laundry, of all things, that he lets his imagination show him a happy possibility instead of a horribly depressing one. It’s a dream he’s been afraid to even acknowledge for all this time. 

Sheets billow on the line while Jason sits in the grass and stares at the newly turned empty page. The sketch on it isn’t even a real moment in time. It’s a fabricated memory, a vision and a dream. 

It’s Leo, next to him on the low rock fence outside his little house here in Elysium. It’s as if he’s right in front of Jason, arms open like they always seemed to be, asking him to get up and _do something_ besides just moping. 

Jason realises with a start that the version of himself that’s in this drawing is in Leo’s sweater. He hasn’t seen that sweater since he died. He still remembers it perfectly. He’s got his back to the viewer, and it’s unintentional. 

Subconsciously, he must’ve wanted the viewer to appreciate Leo without wasting any time looking at him. To stare at this perfect human and feel even a piece of the love Jason feels when he sees that face. What he doesn’t realise in his pessimism, is that even in this drawing, Leo isn’t looking at the viewer. 

As always, he’s looking at Jason. 

His hands are busy with the drawing, and he’s so caught up in this impossible dream that he doesn’t realise that Leo’s smile is the same as it was next to Calypso. Just as warm and happy and impossibly breathtaking. 

_Wish I were-_

Leo’s cheeks are flushed with anger. Hades- no, Pluto, well one or the other- was so _useless_. All he wanted was to bring Jason back with him. He hadn’t put in all this work getting to the underworld just to leave empty handed. 

Either way, he comes to an agreement with death-breath’s dad. He’s going to have to hold himself back from being impulsive, and he’s going to take Jason by the hand and take him out of this place like Orpheus. Except this time, Leo’s _definitely_ not going to turn around.

He’s not that stupid.

On top of that, he’s exhausted. 

_Hang on there Eurydice,_ he hears Alecto cackle from somewhere behind him. It’s frustrating as all hell. It isn’t fair. There’s no way he’d let Jason get stuck here again after giving him hope.

He wonders what Jason will say when they see each other again, for the first time in months.

Was he going to be disappointed that Leo hadn’t come sooner? 

Would he refuse to leave because of some stupid noble reason?

Could Jason be...happy to see him again? 

Either way, he doesn’t expect Jason to cry. But he does.

The idiot is _apologising,_ as if it was something to be sorry for. Leo can’t take it with him anymore. 

Jason’s floundering with his hands and his eyes are darting around him, and Leo can’t seem to ignore the high flush on Jason’s cheeks either. 

It takes him a few minutes to calm Jason down (and to talk him out of pinching himself to be sure this is happening, because it most certainly is) but it’s satisfying to feel Jason’s bony shoulders and slender fingers in his hands again. Leo’s never seen bluer eyes in his life.

They sit by the edge of the cliff that Jason’s house borders. Jason’s head is on his shoulder, and there’s a gorgeous view ahead of them. It feels like old times again. 

Leo’s heart is heavy with things he wants to say before he takes Jason’s hand to lead him out of the underworld, but somehow, feeling Jason’s soft lips on his makes his heart feel so much lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to you queen, all the pent up frustration you witnessed first-hand ended up in this fic and it's glorious hehe


End file.
